The Jester of St. Timothys | Page 5

caught up his bag, turned and grasped Mr. Beasley's hand, then plunged into the crowd which had closed about his brother. His aunt turned and flung her arms about him and kissed him; his uncle gave him a good-natured pat on the back and then stooped and said in his ear, "Irv, if you ever get into trouble,--go to Lawrence."
There was the merry, kindly twinkle in his eyes, the quizzical, humorous smile on his lips that made Irving know his uncle meant always, deep in his heart, to do the right thing.
In the train he pondered for a few moments that last word of advice, wondering if it had been sincere. It rather hurt his dignity, to be referred to his younger brother in that way--and yet it pleased him too; he was glad to have Lawrence appreciated.
Irving spent a day in Cambridge, helping his brother to get settled in the rooms which he himself had occupied for four years. Then he bade Lawrence good-by and resumed his journey to New Hampshire.
It was a pleasant September morning when he presented himself, a sallow, thin-cheeked, narrow-shouldered, bespectacled youth, before Dr. Davenport, the rector of St. Timothy's School. The sunlight streamed in through the southern windows of the spacious library, throwing mellow tints on the bindings of the books which lined the opposite wall from floor to ceiling. It was all so bright that Irving, who was troubled with weak eyes, advanced into it blinking; and perhaps that was one reason for the disappointment which flitted across the rector's face--and which Irving, who was acutely sensitive, perceived in his blinking glance. He flushed, aware that somehow his appearance was too timorous.
But Dr. Davenport chatted with him pleasantly, told him how highly the college authorities had recommended him, and only laughingly intimated a surprise at finding him so young-looking.
"I hope that teaching won't age you prematurely," he added. "You will probably have some trying times with the boys--we all do. But it oughtn't to be hard for you--especially as you will be thrown most of all with the older boys. Mr. Williams, who has had charge of the Sixth Form dormitory at the Upper School, is ill with typhoid fever and will probably not come back this term. So I'm going to put you in charge there. You will have under you twenty fellows, some of them the best in the school. But just because they are in some ways pretty mature, don't be--don't be self-effacing."
"I understand," said Irving. He sat on the edge of his chair, and crumpled his handkerchief nervously in his hands. And all the time--with his singular clearness of intuition--he was aware of the doubt and distrust passing through Dr. Davenport's mind.
"Don't be afraid of the boys or show embarrassment or discomfort before them," continued Dr. Davenport, "and on the other hand don't try to cultivate dignity by being cold and austere. Be natural with them--but always be the master.--There!" he broke off, smiling, for he saw that Irving looked worried and seemed to be taking all this as personal criticism--"that's the talk that I always give to a new master; and now I'm done. Here is a printed copy of the rules and regulations which I advise you to study; you must try to familiarize yourself with our customs before any of the boys arrive. To-morrow the new boys will come, and you will report for duty at the Gymnasium, where the entrance examinations will be held. You will find your room in the Sixth Form dormitory, at the Upper School. I hope you will like the life here, Mr. Upton--and I wish you every possible success in it."
The rector gave him an encouraging handshake and another friendly smile. But Irving departed feeling depressed and afraid. He had seen that the rector was disappointed in him--in his appearance, in his manner. And the rector's little speech had given him the clue. Until now, he had not much considered how large a part of his work would be in the management and the discipline of the boys; the mere teaching of them was what had been in his mind, and for that he felt perfectly competent. In college, that was all that the tutoring, in which he had been so successful, meant. But, confronted by the necessity of establishing and maintaining friendly human relations with a lot of strange boys, Irving for the first time questioned his qualifications, realizing that the rector too was questioning them.
He became more cheerful the next day, when the new boys began to arrive and he found himself at once with work to do. He had mastered pretty thoroughly the names of the buildings and the geography of the place, and it was rather pleasant to be able to give information and directions to